Page 112 of Descent

Vague impressions of my trek filter back into my aching head. Stumbling through the dark. Sharp pain in my chest. Then later, the other pain, that jolting, lingering blaze.

Still there. Only now, it feels tighter.

Like someone stitched me up.

Trying to move my hands, I realize they’re tied behind me. My head lolls from side to side. I’m in a sitting position. I try to open my eyes, but the dim light bulb hanging from the ceiling nearly blinds me.

“Could you turn out the lights, please?” I slur through the sensation of steel marbles in my mouth.

“You do not make demands, shadow man.” Accent is thick. Russian. Deep voice.

“I asked nice. Next time I’ll break your…” my mouth stalls. Making words and thoughts is so damn hard.

“I tell you this, dark one. You do not open your mouth unless it is to spit blood.” A massive backhand takes me across the cheek, nearly knocking me over. The same powerful hands catch my chair and steady me.

Surprisingly, it doesn’t really hurt. Or maybe comparatively. Probably because my entire body already does.

Still, He’s not wrong. Drool and a little bit of blood trickle to the floor, but I’m finally able to open my eyes a crack, so that’s something.

“You said ‘dark one,’” I plow onward, pushing my luck. “Like you know me.”

“Da. You are like dark side of moon. We never see you. You disappear, but apparently you are still there, always living when you should be dead.”

He grabs me, dragging me up, and I managed to lift my head to look up into his face. The man ishuge, a full head taller than me, with arms like fucking tree trunks.

Yet, in spite of his terrifying presence and intimidating expression…

I choke on a laugh. “Oh my God. Y-your hair.”

Suddenly I’m full-on fucking cracking up. I may never get used to that sound coming out of me.

It’s a short-lived experience.

The beast tosses me back down into the chair, tipping me over onto my back.

“You wish you looked this good,” he says, his lip quirking up to one side.

Several punches later, I start to block out the pain and light and the world in general. Sure would be nice to have Ciro’s voice back with me, keeping me company.

“I’m still here, bubba.” Ciro sounds far away.

At least I made it to the Bratva. There’s still a chance that I might make it out alive.

I have to for Circe’s sake.

Bratva…Something itches in my brain at that thought. This guy knows me. Which means…

I’m yanked back upright again.

“Ah, there you are again. More lucid?”

I guess so…How long was I out?

“Tell me why you have come back to Russia. You come to finish the job?”

“I don’t even have a job, I swear?—”

“Fyodor.” The door swings open, a blurry figure backlit by the fluorescent lights in the hall. “That’s enough.”

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